Well...here’s the long anticipated first blog entry of R.M.R Writing Space’s third year! It’s been longer then it should of been but, oh well, too late now. I had a great anniversary in which I got to spoil myself rotten and laze around in my pjs for a longer period of time then I normally do. It was...nice. So happy belated anniversary to my good ol’ blog and I’m going to try and make it last for a good while longer!I’ve lately been adding these creative project updates. They all came to a temporary stand sill due to the interference of personal life stuff and I’m due to get back to them soon. I hate to spill the beans about works in progress but I thought it might be good to talk about stuff I’m creative working on: 2 new, stories and I should be getting back to putting the finishing touches on the master copy of the second volume of Original Noise Volume 2 soon but, I don’t know how soon because I’ve got some other unrelated priorities to consider as well, it will happen though: that I can absolutely guarantee!When I was in the process of making Original Noise Volume 1 I discovered and had a brand new appreciation for amateur photography and some people are saying that apparently I’m quite good at, even though I use the cheapest camera available and I have no background in it at all. I think the main attraction of photography for me is that it reflects the way my stories begin, through the everyday yet iconic symbols of the things that are such a regular part of our everyday lives that they are often taken for granted and overlooked. Each photo shows what I see before I get an idea for a story: a striking image that would fit perfectly into a particular story. I always tell people that my stories are like a visual artist’s sketch of a moment they found worthy of their attention except with words. The last two times I took photos each one had a story or some sort of significance and were not in the least a result of getting carried away with a camera and by photographing the moments I found striking I was providing a visual representation of how most of my stories start to formulate within my brain.